


Masks

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason that Gates doesn't like to send Beckett and Castle on undercover assignments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightclub

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted on fanfiction.net in August of 2012 when I was eighteen, and is now being crossposted here along with all of my other work. This was apparently written during my 'sex in ludicrous positions' phase, so join me in rolling my eyes at my younger self.

Let it never be said that Castle did not know how to party. Although he was no longer one of the bright young things, he still knew how to have a good time. Still, he was beginning to develop a serious pet peeve about the music in this club. It was so loud he could barely hear himself think, let alone communicate with Beckett.

Beckett herself was people watching through half-lidded eyes, a lazy smirk dancing across her lips. Her dress was so tight that it clung to her body like saran wrap, its bright blue color playing off the flashing lights of the club. The 'vodka and tonic' that she'd been nursing for the past hour was cradled in her hands as she leaned back against the bar, propped up on her elbows.

"How much longer until our friend arrives?" Castle bellowed over the pounding music.

Beckett glanced around, looking like a cat on the hunt. Or a single girl trying to find a hot hookup. Either way, her expression matched that of the truly single young partiers drinking alone at the bar.

"Shouldn't be for another hour." She didn't roll her eyes or sigh, but the way she bit her lip was decidedly not coy.

Castle shifted in his bar seat. "Any chance we could… you know… slip away?"

Beckett gave him a look, then glanced around the club again. She was bored. She'd done stakeouts and undercover work before--just never the two of them together. It was actually pretty mind numbing.

"C'mon, Castle," she said, grabbing his hand. "Let's dance."

She led him out onto the dance floor. Castle turned her, placing his hands loosely at her waist. She draped her arms on his shoulders and moved in time with the music, twisting her hips and pressing herself up against him.

"This isn't exactly protocol, is it?" Castle asked, pulling her a little closer.

"Hmm… no." Beckett grinned wickedly. "But I'm bored."

"Oh!" Castle acted incredibly wounded. "So that's all I am, Detective, something to do when you're bored? I feel so… so used!"

Beckett kissed him, long and hard. "Not that I mind it," he amended.

She smirked. "Our… 'friend' doesn't usually get in for another forty-five minutes or so."

"And you're bored," Castle added.

Beckett had the grace not to deny it.

Grinning, Castle swept his eyes over the crowd. "Would you mind if we used the bathroom?" He asked. "I don't trust alleyways. We could get attacked by sword-wielding vigilantes."

Beckett laughed at the inside joke. "Whatever you say, Castle."

They wound their way through the crowd, Beckett in the lead with Castle pressed into her back, his hands still on her waist as he gently pushed her in the proper direction. He saw, to his great relief, that they were a series of one-room bathrooms, rather than two large bathrooms with various stalls. Whoever designed this club had a pretty good sense of what couples got up to in there. Beckett entered the nearest available room and he followed, turning around to lock the door once it shut.

No sooner had the lock clicked than Beckett was on him, tongue and teeth and groping hands. Castle was momentarily startled but quickly got involved, running his hands up her smooth legs and tugging on her hair to get her head at a better angle for plundering her mouth.

"You weren't kidding." He managed to gasp out when coming up for air.

Beckett said something, but his tongue was in her mouth at that point so it really wasn't anything decipherable.

"What?" Castle asked, breaking apart.

"I said… oh never mind," Beckett huffed, un-tucking his shirt and frantically running her hands underneath it. "Just help me--ah!"

Castle took matters into his own hands--literally--by picking her up and spinning her around so that she was pinned between him and the door. Beckett made a noise of exasperation but braced herself on his shoulders to jump up and wrap her legs around his waist.

"Much better," she hummed, sounding like the cat that ate the canary.

"You have way too much fun with this." He began to document every inch of skin on her upper body with his mouth. Beckett's hands came up to tangle in his hair, her grip with her legs becoming tighter.

"And you don't?" She retorted.

Castle was a little too busy exploring the right side of her neck just below her ear to reply. Beckett grabbed one of his wrists and turned it, peering at his watch.

"Twenty minutes, Castle," she warned him.

He stopped what he was doing to stare at her.

"You're the one who started this and now you're reminding me of our time constraints?" He asked, shocked.

Beckett ground against him. "I'll make it up to you later."

Castle chucked as he helped her to lift up her dress. "I'll need you to get my pants."

"No problem."

It took a bit of maneuvering, but they managed to work together to get his pants down. "I haven't done this since…" Beckett's eyes flicked upwards as she thought back.

"Can we not think about you having sex with other guys right now?" Castle asked, only half joking.

Beckett smiled at him. "Of course." She took him in her hand and positioned him at her entrance. She pecked him on the lips. "This is much better, anyway."

He slipped in smoothly, careful not to get too erratic lest he bang her against the wall. Well, literally, not metaphorically. He was already doing that.

The setting--dirty bathroom in a club--and the fact that they shouldn't be doing this gave everything a raw feeling. The colors of the things around him were saturated, all noises muffled except for the sound of Beckett's harsh breathing and his own frantically racing heart.

"Castle!" Beckett's voice was hoarse and hot and rushed, a vocal version of the blood pumping through him as he thrust into her for the final time.

"Beckett…" He breathed when everything began to fade back to normal. Colors returned to their regular shades, the sounds of the club began to filter into the room, and… Beckett was checking his watch again.

"Six minutes," she declared as he helped her down.

"I love you, Beckett, but next time I'm taking my watch off and flushing it down the toilet."

She grinned and kissed him on the nose. "Love you too," she said, moving to check her appearance in the mirror. She waltzed out the door to let him clean up. He took care of business, counted to one hundred, and then exited the room.

The suspect was confronted, the mission was a success, and the night was capped off with a debrief from their captain and a glass of celebratory champagne back at the loft.

Meanwhile, at the 12th, two junior detectives erased a recording that had been made before the suspect arrived. They then washed their ears with holy water from the church that the Irish junior detective attended, and vowed to remind their friends that they had to always, always, always turn off their hidden mikes before engaging in any… unauthorized activities on an assignment.


	2. Newlyweds

Castle and Beckett strolled into the bed and breakfast arm-in-arm. Beckett was curled into Castle's side, her head resting on his shoulder. Their dopey, love struck grins were identical twins, and every so often one of them would lean in and whisper something to the other one, which would make their smiles grow even larger.

Nobody noticed that Beckett's eyes were darting around the room, taking in her surroundings--the exits, the patrons, the employees, the furniture--or that the things they were whispering weren't inside jokes or confessions of love but information about the place they were infiltrating.

Yes, infiltrating. Castle was the one who had insisted on using that word.

The Candlestick Bed & Breakfast was nestled in a forested nook just off of one of the smaller New England highways. It was a model of cozy 18th Century charm, and conveyed the dual elegance and homespun simplicity that is the hallmark of the region. It was a well-known spot for lovers, being both out of the way and easily accessible. From honeymooners to cheating spouses to celebrities seeking an anonymous getaway, if you were a couple, this was the place to go.

According to the day planner of their current murder victim, this had been the place he was planning on going before someone forced him to kick the bucket. Castle had various theories as to why their junior attorney was coming here, but Beckett was focusing on the facts: he had booked a room here under a pseudonym for the duration of the weekend, and no one had known of his plans.

"I'll bet he's meeting Kimmie Samira here," Castle breathed into Beckett's ear. Ms. Samira was an attorney that had gone to the same law school as their victim but was currently working for a rival firm.

"For the last time, Castle; stop theorizing and help me get a look around."

"I think we should check in at the desk, now," Castle suggested. "We can wander around as much as we'd like once we're settled in. The person he was meeting might not even be planning to show up until this evening."

"You're right." Beckett nodded.

"Wait--can you repeat that a few more times? I need to ingrain it in my memory…"

Beckett gave him a smile that he alone knew meant death if he finished his train of thought. Castle shut his mouth and they approached the front desk.

"Hello!" He said, giving the receptionist a charming grin. Beckett also flashed a warm smile. The receptionist wasn't fazed by their cheerfulness. The only guest at any service-oriented business that is guaranteed to be happy is someone in the throes of romance. In other words… the young lady at the front desk as used to it.

"We're here to check in," Castle went on. The young woman was barely out of her teens--twenty-two, at the oldest--and had a decidedly European look about her. Her pale blonde hair was currently pulled back into a modest, low bun, gathered at the nape of her neck. Despite her clearly young age, her dark blue eyes did not hold the vacant look of many young adults, but were deep and sharp.

"Great! What's your name?" She asked, looking down at her reception book.

"Wilder." Castle told her.

The receptionist found the name and smiled. "Excellent! I see you right here." She turned to the rack of keys behind her and pulled off one that had the tag "20" printed on it. "You're going to be in the Lilac Cottage, just down the path and right at the fork."

"Will we be… near anyone else, Miss…?" Castle paused.

"Sanne. My name is Sanne." The young woman smiled, pleased that someone had cared enough to ask for her name.

"Sanne." Beckett pronounced the name perfectly. She smiled. "Will we be near anyone?"

"Well, there is the Hyacinth Cottage, but it's hidden from view by a clump of trees It'll be like you have the area all to yourselves."

"Thank you," Castle said, taking the key graciously.

Beckett leaned forward conspiratorially. "It's just that Ricky and I--well, it's our honeymoon and…" She trailed off into a giggle.

Castle nearly choked on his own tongue.

"I understand," Sanne giggled, her tone matching Beckett's. "The Hyacinth Cottage was reserved for two, but so far only one has checked in. A young lady, a little older than I am… oh! That's her!" Sanne pointed her chin towards someone behind them. Beckett turned while Castle continued to pretend he wasn't listening in on their conversation.

The woman that Sanne indicated had soft brown hair and eyes to match. She was sitting in one of the comfy chairs near the immense fireplace, gazing out of the big front bay window. Her expression was a mix of apprehension and depression. As they watched she got up and, with one last glance at the window, made her way outside. Her face was one of heartbroken resignation.

"She looks sad," Beckett observed.

Castle shot her a look that clearly said:  _And the understatement of the year award goes to…_

Sanne wasn't looking at Castle, but nodded sympathetically with Beckett. "She's been like that all day. I don't think you'll have much trouble with her; I have a feeling she'll be gone by tonight."

Beckett nodded. "Thanks for the information." She smiled sweetly. "Have to go unpack, now!" The wink she gave Sanne, however, indicated she was going to do anything except 'unpack.'

Castle exerted a heroic amount of self-control and waited until they had reached the little cottage to burst out laughing. While the inn itself had a number of rooms, there were about ten cottages spread out over the grounds, which were also filled with walking paths and gardens. Their cottage was much like the others--small, quaint, and clean.

Beckett glared at him as she began to unpack the luggage. "I don't see what's so amusing."

"You are," he chuckled, grinning at her as he leaned against the bathroom doorway.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Beckett said, smiling.

Castle just shook his head at her. "So should we go and talk to our abandoned lover?"

"Not yet," Beckett said, shaking her head. "We need to see what she does when he doesn't show up."

The note in the day planner had specified  _Hyacinth, Candlestick_  with the date and a time on it. Both the detective and the author were certain that the woman the receptionist Sanne had indicated was the person their deceased attorney was planning on meeting.

"You know…" Castle said, walking towards her predatorily, "If we're waiting until then, that leaves us a good hour or two…" He grinned. "And we are supposed to be newlyweds, after all…"

"Castle, don't you dare–" Beckett was cut off as she turned around and Castle kissed her, hard and fast, pulling her to him before she could break off the kiss and back away.

By the time they pulled apart, Beckett was thoroughly hot and bothered. "You are going to pay for that." Her eyes strayed down to his lips, and then lower. "After this," she amended.

Castle flung her playfully onto the bed and climbed on top of her. Beckett giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down. "I'll consider this a stay in execution," he murmured.

He kissed her as she scooted backwards so that they could both be fully on the bed. Beckett began undoing the frilly pale pink dress that the undercover team had put her in, wanting to get it off of her as soon as possible--and not just because Castle was massaging her neck with his mouth. Beckett did not do pale pink. Or frilly dresses.

Once the dress was off and flung into a corner (to be ceremoniously burned at a later date), Beckett started work on Castle's clothing. Castle was too busy worshipping her body to really care about his state of dress--or undress--but Beckett wanted him naked. Now.

"You are so impatient," Castle admonished as he stopped kissing her in order to help her pull his shirt over his head.

"Says the man who never waits for anything," Beckett scoffed.

Castle planted a kiss on her navel. "I waited for you."

Beckett melted just a little. Yes, he had. She finished pushing his pants down and ran her hands over his chest. She didn't meet his eyes, unable to speak. She settled for kissing his forehead before lying back on the bed, gazing up at him.

He smiled gently at her, sliding his hands underneath her to lift her up a little. Beckett kissed his neck, biting at his pulse point before running her tongue along it to soothe it. "Thank you," she breathed into his ear. "For waiting."

"Always." He slipped inside of her, her walls clenching around him possessively for a moment before she relaxed.

Castle moved slowly. What had started out as fun and games had settled into something deeper. He loved it when it was like this. Although, he also loved it when they were going fast and furious… and when they were desperate and needy… or when… you know what? He loved it all the time. He wasn't picky.

Maybe it was the fact that they couldn't be themselves at the moment, or that they always had to be on their guard while on a case. Whatever it was, Beckett was being decidedly vocal, encouraging him with words and instinctive sounds. Castle needed next to no prodding to get talkative, his voice quickly matching hers. It all came to a head when Beckett screamed--honest-to-God, someone's-being-murdered, going-to-make-your-voice-hoarse screamed.

There was a knock at the door. Both of them froze, staring at the source of the noise like a ghost or cannibalistic alien spaceship had just appeared. Castle quickly clambered off of Beckett, and they hastily began to dress themselves.

"Is everything okay in there?" A concerned female voice called. "I heard some noises and then somebody screamed…"

Castle had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out with laughter. Beckett glared at him, but was biting her lip to hold back sniggers of her own. When the person kept knocking, clearly not going away until she got an answer, Beckett adjusted her dress, ran a hand through her hair, and opened the door. Castle ducked quickly into the bathroom.

"Hello!" Beckett said cheerfully. She gave the woman at the door her most cheerful smile, the one she reserved for nervous interrogation victims. Her smile faltered just a little bit when she saw who it was.

The very woman they were planning to spy on--and hopefully interview--was standing on her doorstep, a look of concern on her face. Up close, Beckett could see that she had a rather sweet, soft look about her, and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks. The red, puffy skin and glittering eyes of someone who has spent a good bit of time crying were unmistakable.

"Is everything okay?" The woman asked. "I heard a scream and–"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Beckett apologized, looking embarrassed and bringing a hand to her chest. "I just saw a spider and, well, I'm deathly afraid of them, but Ricky--well, he's the bravest man I know, you should see him when he rock climbs--but he just killed it so we're all right now. Actually, when I first took him back to my place…" Beckett opened her mouth like she was going to keep babbling but paused. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, but are you all right?"

The woman stood there, a little surprised. "I, well…" Her lip trembled, and then she burst into tears.

Beckett had, fortunately, been expecting a reaction along those lines and immediately wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulder. "Oh! I'm sorry! I'm so insensitive. Come inside and I'll get you some water. I'm Kate, by the way."

"Suzanne," the woman replied, sniffling just a little.

Beckett nodded and gave a reassuring smile, her demeanor shifting subtly from giddy new wife to NYPD Detective. She quietly led Suzanne inside and sat her down on the bed. The look she and Castle shared, however, showed that they were both having the same train of thought.

_Please be guilty of something, because otherwise we won't live down the guilt of you hearing us._

Unfortunately for their consciences, Suzanne turned out to be entirely innocent of any illegal activities, although she proved to be a valuable source of information. When Gates asked them how they got into contact with Suzanne, however…

It was hard to say whose eyes bugged out more.


	3. Bondage Club

Normally, Castle would have been excited. Normally, he would have been totally on-board. But normally they would have been doing this in either his or her apartment--not some underground club. And, normally, there wouldn't be a very big chance of the owners of said club finding them out and murdering them slowly and torturously.

So he could be excused for being a little reluctant on this one.

"Look, it's not a big deal. We get in, we sneak into the office, we get the files and we get out," Beckett explained as they approached the unassuming door in the wall of the alley.

"It's not that part I'm worried about," Castle explained. "Kate, you saw the bodies. If they catch you…"

"I'll be fine, Castle." She tugged him to her and kissed him. "We'll be fine."

Castle reached up to his chest to feel the hidden microphone, only to remember that it wasn't there. The operation hadn't exactly been run by the captain beforehand, and they couldn't risk using equipment that she'd find out about. Ryan and Esposito were running down another lead in the case, keeping the captain informed and distracted as to what he and Beckett were up to that evening. If all went well, they'd have the information they needed. If all didn't go well… at least they wouldn't be alive for Gates to yell at them.

Beckett knocked two times, paused, and then knocked twice more. The door swung open, and a bouncer that was more mountain than man stared at them suspiciously. Beckett put on her sultriest pout, while Castle tried to look calm and in control.

"It's good to know when you're beaten," Beckett recited.

The bouncer turned and silently led them down the narrow steps and into a dark, dungeon-style hallway. Doors on either side of the corridor were marked with numbers. The walls were soundproof, but they could easily guess what was going on inside. The club was on the exclusive side, and it wouldn't do for patrons to be interrupted by the couple next door.

A woman clad in black leather appeared, leading them down the hallway and towards a door at the end.

"This will be your room," she explained. "I assume you paid in full?"

Castle nodded. "We assumed it was the only way to ensure our membership."

"It's the preferred method, yes." The woman nodded. "This room is yours for the night. If there's anything that you need, there's a button on the wall. At the end of the hall, turn left and you'll find the bathrooms." She unlocked the door and opened it for them to enter. "Have fun." She winked.

The minute the door was closed, Beckett reached up and yanked Castle down to her. After making out for a moment, she turned to whisper in his ear while he kissed up and down her neck. "According to our source, the office is next to the bathrooms." She felt Castle nod against her neck. "I think we should wait about a half an hour, and then…"

"Why are we even faking this right now?" Castle asked.

"Cameras," Beckett whispered. Castle's eyes flicked upwards. Sure enough, there was a tiny camera mounted in the corner of the wall, right underneath the ceiling.

"Shit," he muttered. "Wait – won't they get suspicious when we don't…"

When Beckett didn't reply, he pulled back. His eyes searched her face. "We have to," Beckett whispered. "They'll know, otherwise."

Castle glanced around the room at the various 'toys' offered. He glanced at the ornate bed. "I am not touching you with those." He inclined his head towards some of the more violent offerings.

"Good. Now I won't have to kill you," Beckett quipped, her voice low. "But we'll have to use something… after all, that's supposedly why we're here…"

She marched over to the stuff and began to look around. Castle came over as well, standing behind her and resting his hands on her hips. After a moment, Beckett made her decision. She snatched up some black and red ties.

"Use these," she instructed.

Castle glanced at the objects in her hand, and then her. "Is there any chance you could swipe this video? Because I want proof that you willingly let me…"

"Just. Use. Them," Beckett ground out through clenched teeth.

Case or no case, Castle was not going to let this opportunity go to waste. He took the ties from her hand. He selected one and carefully tied it around her eyes. Beckett sucked in a breath, but said nothing.

Once, while doing research for a Derrick Storm novel, he'd researched BDSM (in his book, he had a BDSM shop be a cover for arms dealers). One thing that was stressed was that in any healthy dom/sub relationship, there had to be a high level of trust. And while Beckett was happy to take the lead on such things (in fact, she was even willing to use her police cuffs), letting someone else be in control was an entirely different matter. He would have to tread carefully.

Gently, he led her over to the bed. Beckett crawled backwards onto it, her senses on high alert. Castle placed a hand on her chest and gently pressed downwards. Beckett lay down on her back, trying to stay limp. Castle then tied each of her arms to the bedposts, testing the ties to make sure that they were secure, but not too tight.

"You okay?" He asked in a low voice.

Beckett nodded slightly. She didn't trust her voice at the moment.

There was the sound of rustling, and Beckett felt him begin to unbutton her outfit. She'd chosen it specifically so that it would be easy to take off. The thrill that ran through her was surprising, but pleasing. She trusted Castle, and not just to take care of her--she trusted him to make this very, very good. Although, she kind of wished that she could see in order to confirm her suspicion that he had a huge grin on his face.

Castle contemplated his next move. He supposed that the people who may or may not be watching them would want a big show, with safe words and dirty talk, but Beckett was in a vulnerable position right now. He slowly peeled back the sides of her dress, then ran his hands over her skin. Goosebumps appeared in his wake. Bending down, he kissed her right between her breasts. Beckett's back arched slightly. Slowly, he continued to work his way downward, spending so much time on each patch of skin that Beckett was certain he'd never finish. She tugged at the restraints, but he'd done a damn fine job. They didn't budge. The need to move, to touch him and regain control, was driving her almost as crazy as what he was doing to her body.

He finally reached her upper thighs. Glancing up, he was pleased to see that her entire body was flushed in the way that he knew signaled her arousal. He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. Bending down, he ran his tongue along her entrance, tasting her juices. Beckett trembled, trying not to buck her hips. Taking this for the encouragement that it was, Castle worked on her clit for a good minute, completely ignoring her passage for the time being. He knew that if she had her hands free, Beckett would be yanking his head up to kiss him, angling for penetration. He decided to deny her that for just a little bit longer.

By the time a few more minutes had passed, Beckett was going insane. She bucked her hips violently, trying to communicate. If she spoke, she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't use his name and screw it all up, so she stayed silent. She felt Castle smile against her skin.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you wanted something." His voice was gravelly and dark with desire.

"You know…  _fuck_ …" Beckett's sentence trailed off into an expletive.

Castle took that as her breaking point and finally curled his tongue into her, sealing his mouth against her. Beckett let off a string of curses that would have made any sailor blush. He struggled to keep from smiling and continued in his work.

Beckett's panting built upon itself until she finally came with a long, loud moan. It rose and varied in pitch until it finally died down, trailing away into a whine of loss as Castle moved away from her.

He released each hand, massaging the wrist before letting go. Beckett sat up, removing her blindfold. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as she rose up on her knees, kissing him fervently. He let her control the kiss, holding her tightly while her hands desperately ran over his body.

"Thank you," she whispered. Their eyes met and they smiled.

Castle remembered where they were. He cleared his throat. "Do you, uh…" He trailed off, unsure of how to finish and hoping that she got his meaning.

Beckett's eyes flashed with realization. "I'm going to go to the bathroom," she said, her voice at a normal level. She leaned in, palming his rather prominent erection. "And I promise I'll take care of this at home," she added, smiling wickedly before hopping off the bed and exiting the room.

Two hours later, the files examined and the mission a success, she made good on her promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that was my teenage self's idea of being 'edgy' in sex. *smacks forehead*


	4. Fight Club

The couple that strolled in looked confident, put-together, and in every way criminal. When they feel relaxed enough, the criminal classes will exude a certain air that leaves no doubt as to who they are, and while entering a den of illegal betting and to-the-death boxing matches might make a normal person nervous, to other lawbreakers it was a place to put up their feet.

The woman's brunette hair was swept up out of her face, her lips an alarming shade of red that matched her dress. While it looked designer, a couple of ladies sitting nearby who ran a purse-forging company knew it was a fake. The man, whose arm the woman was hanging on, wore a suit with the shirt un-tucked and the tie loosened. His hair was slicked back with an excessive amount of gel.

They ignored most of the people gathered there and made straight for one of the managers of the place. They had a rather fruitful conversation, with the woman making statements that proved she was uneducated but shrewd with a crazy sex drive, and the man talking with an over confidence that showed he was clever, but not as clever as he thought he was. After a few minutes, the couple seated themselves and watched the current fight going on in the ring.

After about a minute of this, Castle leaned over and whispered in Beckett's ear. "How long until Ryan and Esposito get here with the squad?"

Beckett thought for a moment. "Well, I just text them the address, so… half an hour." Her voice was still in the heavy Brooklyn drawl she'd been using as a part of her act, just in case anyone was listening. She glanced at him. "Why? All we have to do is stay and watch the match."

Castle opened his mouth, closed it, and then decided to go ahead and dive in. "You've been driving me crazy with that dress ever since you walked out of the precinct bathroom wearing that thing."

"Have I?" Beckett continued to act absorbed in the match.

Castle leaned over, placing one arm around the back of her chair and the other on her upper thigh. "That's five hours of being driven crazy, Beckett."

Beckett's eyes slid across the room. Everyone was absorbed in watching the bloody match, roaring and screaming with primal enthusiasm. Nobody had questioned their presence, and now no one was paying them any mind. Castle leaned forward so that his mouth was at her ear. He casually tucked some hair that was trailing across her shoulder back behind her ear, exposing her neck.

"There's an empty locker room about ten feet behind us." He kissed her right at the joint where her neck met her shoulder.

Beckett stood up abruptly and made her way towards said locker room. Castle, seeing that she'd given him a chance that he'd better not waste, refrained from making any quips as he followed her. He glanced about just to make sure that no one was watching, then pushed open the door, allowing her through before following.

It smelled of sweat and peeling paint and something organic (fungus or mold perhaps) but then Castle stepped into her line of vision and put his arms around her and all that she could smell was him; his cologne and a whiff of whatever the dry cleaning company used on his jacket, plus a bit of the precinct smell, a hint of coffee, and beneath it all, coursing like an underground river, the unique, natural scent of him. Beckett pressed her nose into his neck, inhaling as deeply as she could and pressing herself against him. She almost wanted to meld with him, become a part of him, forever wrapped in the cocoon of his embrace.

"Okay. You've convinced me," she mumbled. She felt his chuckle.

"And I hadn't before?" His kisses started at her forehead and began a steady descent down her nose, to her lips, her chin… marching steadily, ever downward.

"Well… now you've one hundred percent convinced me. I was only seventy five percent convinced before." Her hands moved to clutch at his shoulders. She began to walk backwards, knowing from experience that it was only a matter of time before her knees buckled.

His hands starting patting her down, trying to either shimmy her dress up around her waist or tug it down. Beckett felt her back sink against something, and she groaned.

"Why do we always end up against a damn wall?"

Castle would have shrugged, but at that moment he found the zipper and was pouring a lot of effort into getting it undone. "I wouldn't trust this floor. I think that's blood in the corner."

"Walls aren't too bad," Beckett amended. Castle chuckled again.

"If you don't like it, you could always turn around."

Beckett considered that for a moment as Castle tugged her dress down enough to get at her breasts. She gasped and arched her back. "I don't think I could do it in these heels," she finally decided.

"I'd protest, but you look hot in them."

"Thank you for your honesty." Beckett was the only person he knew who could manage dry humor while in the middle of foreplay.

Enough of the zipper was undone that the dress was able to slide down to the floor. Beckett was kissing Castle, each one more hurried than the last, but she broke off long enough to say, "You're paying for any stains," before resuming her assault on his mouth.

Castle lifted up her leg, running his hand along her smooth, delectable skin. "Remind me to reacquaint myself with how your thighs taste when we get home," he murmured into the corner of her mouth.

That made Beckett kiss him all the harder.

He hitched up her leg, then the other one, removing his hands from her upper body completely. Beckett braced herself against the wall, clutching him wildly, her hands scrabbling at his back for purchase.

It was probably her cop training--or, maybe, Castle's observation skills--but whatever it was, despite their condition, a part of them was vaguely aware of what was going on in the room outside. Beckett could hear a particularly loud, roaring cheer as the wave of her orgasm crested, and Castle took note of a violent thud (most likely the aftermath of a blow) as his climax began to subside. Castle helped Beckett slide down just as half the room burst into cheers while the other half descended into boos. They looked at each other, silently communicating. The match was over, which meant that the locker room was not going to remain empty.

As Beckett put her dress back on, she looked down at the floor. "Yup, definitely paying for it," she muttered to herself. Castle helped her with her zipper (which was just as much trouble doing up as pulling down) and pulled her out the door.

There were no sirens, no lights or shouts, but the second they were back in the main room a team led by Ryan and Esposito burst through the doors, weapons aimed and dander up. Castle caught a glimpse of the fallen boxer and winced--his face looked like it had been run through a blender. Beckett noticed it and gave him a questioning eyebrow.

Castle answered her. "I just hope he's alive."

Beckett's face became grave, and she nodded. "I hope so too."

He gave a guilty smile. "It almost makes me feel guilty for pretty much getting it on while he was fighting for his life."

"Well, if you really feel guilty, you can pay to have my dress cleaned."

"You are just not going to let that go, are you?"

Beckett's only answer was a cryptic smile as she sashayed away from him towards their coworkers.

"Yo!" Esposito said when they approached. "Looks like we'll be able to put away everyone participating in this--from the betters to the big boys."

"Yeah, Captain'll be pleased," Ryan said, glancing around at all the people being handcuffed.

"Let's just hope our murder is one of them," Beckett said grimly, looking around as well.

"Um… Beckett?" Castle began tentatively. "We did put some money down on the guy who won…"

All three of the others stared at him for a minute before speaking at the same time.

"Yes," said Espo.

"No," said Beckett.

"What about Gates?" Asked Ryan.

Castle gave Beckett his best puppy eyes. She looked at him for a beat, and then rolled her eyes. "Fine. But I didn't hear about it."

As Castle scampered away, she called after him,

"And next time, there needs to be a bed!"

He didn't want to know what Ryan and Espo's faces looked like.


	5. Marriage Counselor

Castle glanced over at his partner for the fifth time in under a minute. She remained, staring fixedly at the closed elevator doors, the look in her eyes deadlier than any lasers. That look could melt a wall of concrete. Or, at least, stop someone in his tracks. She'd been that way ever since they'd been given the order, and Castle hadn't dared speak up about it. The one silver lining was that if this continued into the office, it wouldn't be difficult to act the part they were supposed to be playing.

He cleared his throat and swung his arms, rocking on the balls of his feet. Another glance. Beckett hadn't moved.

As was customary, his mouth got the better of him and he spoke.

"So… why the Ice Queen treatment?"

Beckett didn't reply, so he got serious. "C'mon, Kate. Gates told us what we had to do and from that moment you've done nothing but shoot daggers at the air. We've done undercover assignments before."

There were only two occasions that would prompt Castle to use her first name outside of his loft: when he was certain no one could hear and he was trying to be sexy, or when he was trying to be one hundred percent serious. She thought she heard a little concern in there, as well. For the sake of her sanity, and their relationship, Beckett decided to be honest with him. It was a struggle--it was always a struggle for her--but it was something that she'd been working on from the beginning of their relationship. Since she'd begged his forgiveness after last summer, if she were to be honest with herself as well (another thing she still had trouble with).

"It's just that… I don't like therapists, as a rule."

Castle frowned. "You like yours."

"Yeah, but he's… different. I don't know. But I went to different therapists after my mom died, and Royce made me go to one once, and before you become a cop they make you do a psychological evaluation, and I… I don't know, Castle. I don't like being examined. I don't like my actions, my thoughts and emotions being picked apart and analyzed. I always hated those personality tests, too."

"It's all fake, Kate," Castle assured her. "Dr. Holloway wouldn't discuss her clients with Ryan and Espo, so we just have to get the information a more subtle way."

Beckett shook her head slightly, just enough so that her hair fell in front of her face. "It's still being analyzed, Castle. I don't fit in a box."

He gently tucked her hair back behind her ears, letting his the strands run through his fingers. "I've spent four years trying to analyze you," he confided. "And I'm no more closer to solving the mystery. And if a crime-solving nosey mystery writer who also happens to be your boyfriend and work partner can't do that, then no one can."

She finally turned her head and met his eyes, her skin almost shining with gratefulness. A slow smile (his favorite kind of Kate-smile) spread over her face, and she opened her mouth to speak.

The elevator doors jerked open.

Castle sighed as he watched her face shut down again. Putting a comforting hand on her lower back, he led her through the spacious waiting room and to the large, imposing front desk. Ryan and Esposito had described the place differently, but Castle felt that they were both accurate. Ryan had said that it was  _like a movie-set doctor's office_ , while Espo had declared it a place  _where rich people go to have their problems solved_.

There were comfy upholstered chairs that were a couple shades darker than the professionally painted walls. There was molding on the trim and real plants, not fake ones, standing full and healthy in intricately painted ceramic pots in the corners of the room. A full, shining metal magazine rack stood next to an equally shiny glass table bearing a large pitcher (brimming with water) and two neat stacks of paper cups. A round china platter decorated with an assortment of peacocks and phoenixes was filled with mints which, judging by their colors, came in spearmint, peppermint, cinnamon, butterscotch, orange, lemon, cherry and chocolate mint. A Monet, a Renoir, a Van Gogh, a Manet and a Degas all hung in complimentary frames on the walls. The flat-screen television mounted on one wall was at least forty inches and was currently showing the news. The front desk was an immense contraption of teak and stainless steel, behind which sat a receptionist with a remarkably blank and official face, tapping away at a computer. Behind her on the wall was a collection of frames holding small wilderness pictures of such color and luminosity, they were almost  _too_  real.

Castle strode purposefully towards the desk, leaning on it nonchalantly. Beckett stood at his side, and although she kept her hands at her sides he could feel her straining to be closer to him. Her vulnerability was startling enough, but her willingness to show it to him--and to be protected by him--was astounding. It made him want to get on his knees and thank her, worship her, compose a speech… well, he'd already written a book series for her, so that might be redundant, but still… The list of things he'd do if they were alone was long and ran the gamut from sinful to ridiculously over-the-top romantic, but they were definitely not alone, and not even allowed to be themselves, so--well--he hated it, but his (extreme) expressions of gratitude would have to wait.

Instead, he turned his attention to the receptionist. He'd dealt with a fair number of these ladies in his time, and there was one common thread that ran through them all; they were the front line. They were the business version of a hostess in a restaurant. They judged the personality of the people who came in, how to handle them, assessed their needs, and dealt with them accordingly. They were the go-betweens. They were often overlooked, but one of the most essential parts of the entire operation. So no matter how snarky, bored, overworked or difficult they were, it was always in your best interests to work with them. So, Castle turned on the charm.

In keeping with their "reason" for being there, he laid it on a little thicker than he normally would, his winks a little more frequent, his banter a little too flirtatious, his voice lowering just a little too much. The receptionist (her name, he discovered, was Michelle) was beyond flattered to have a handsome, clearly successful man paying her such wholehearted attention, but there was a light shining in her eyes that Castle noticed and catalogued. It dimmed or brightened at times but it was there, and he recognized it. Michelle was smart--she had to be to handle this job, at this place--and she would have picked up a few things working there. She knew (or thought she knew) what kind of person he was and what he was up to. Already, the stage was being set. The audience was primed.

Having assured him that she would let Dr. Holloway know they had arrived, Michelle directed them to the elegant chairs, inviting them to have a glass of water and perhaps a mint while they waited. Castle thanked her, his smile skirting the edge of a leer, and went to sit down. Beckett perched herself on the seat next to him, her hands pressed into the plump cushion, her eyes darting about.

There was so much that Castle wanted to say, but he couldn't with Michelle sneaking glances at them from under her lashes. He peered at the carpet, noting that it was a lush color that complimented the walls and that it was unexpectedly deep and soft, while watching the receptionist out of the corner of his eye. She typed something rapidly on her computer, her fingers flying across the keys, before clicking twice with her mouse and returning to tapping lazily. His writer's brain connected the dots easily.  _Observe and report, is it? Quite sneaky, Doctor, quite sneaky._

Beckett had finally decided to look at each art print in turn, as well as soak in the nature photographs. She seemed especially transfixed by those, although of the paintings her eyes lingered longest on the Degas. Castle wondered if she'd ever danced. With those legs? He wouldn't be surprised. He made a mental note to ask her about it when they were out of here and could breathe and banter and  _be_. The silk shell of her ear called to him, and he ached to lean forward and caress it with his fingertips, to curl hot breath through the inner swirl and whisper reassurance, but before he could even think of what to say Michelle stood.

"Dr. Holloway will see you now," she announced. Her tone reminded Castle of Gandalf commanding the doors of Moria to open. There was no question of choice--what was willed, was willed, and there an end.

Beckett did an excellent impression of a block of stone. Muhammad might have been forced to go to the mountain, but Castle was going to have to get her into that office or they were busted.

"Why, thank you," he responded, his voice holding a subtle playfulness that did not go unnoticed. It was not meant to. He turned to Beckett. "Kate."

She dragged her head up, as if from great watery depths, and their eyes met. Connection: engaged. Message sent, received and…

Accepted.

She stood, slowly, almost as if she were shell-shocked, and only he knew it was feet-dragging reluctance. It was like watching a three-year-old Alexis when she had to visit her mother. He never imagined that this assignment would break his heart just as much as those times had.

They left the waiting room and followed Michelle through the dark wood doors to the inner office, where she left them to the good doctor.

Dr. Ariel Holloway was an approachable looking blonde in her mid forties. She smiled warmly and gestured towards a long leather couch. "Please, sit down."

Castle and Beckett did so, Beckett looking at Dr. Holloway stonily. Castle looked around the room. Bookshelves lined the walls, and there was a large window looking out over the city. The room couldn't have been more stereotypical if it tried.

"Since this is our first session, why don't we start…"

Castle slipped easily into his decided role, while Beckett remained distant. When she did speak, it was very defensively. By the time a half hour had passed, though, he'd warmed the psychiatrist up enough to get her to talk about other couples she'd helped… including one couple who had recently suffered a tragedy: the death of the husband. That was when Beckett snapped out of it. The following half hour was both an example of beautiful acting and interrogation skills as Beckett got the information she needed. It was towards the end of the hour when there was a knock on the door. Michelle poked her head in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but, um, your son is outside and he says it's urgent." She shot them all an apologetic look.

Dr. Holloway stood. "I'll be right back. I'm sorry about the interruption."

"It's no problem," Castle assured her.

"Take your time," Beckett agreed.

The therapist left the room, closing the door with a heavy click. Castle turned to Beckett. "Glad to see you're more like yourself."

She smiled softly. "I told you, I don't like therapists except for Dr. Burke, and even then I didn't trust him for a long time."

They sat there staring at each other for a moment. Castle leaned over and kissed her gently.

"What was that for?" Beckett asked.

"Since when do I need a reason to kiss you?" He asked, faking outrage. Then he grinned. "Well, first of all I happen to love you so I kind of want to kiss you all the time." Beckett rolled her eyes. "And second of all, I'm apologizing on behalf of Gates for making you do this."

Beckett's smile grew. "I could stand a little more apologizing."

He leaned forward and captured her mouth again, swiping his tongue against her lower lip. She gave a tiny moan, not much, but just enough for him to slide his tongue against hers. Beckett got aggressive then, crowding his mouth with her tongue and demanding more. He fed her kiss after kiss, hot and wet and a little sloppy at times. Beckett reached up and grasped at his cheeks, pinning their faces together before her hands roamed higher to bury themselves in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him as he shifted so that he was on his knees. She didn't question him--in fact, she began to lean backwards, tugging at him, breaking off their kiss so that she could plant her mouth everywhere else. She clung to him like she was drowning, her hands grasping tightly as her mouth ran desperately over his skin.

Castle began fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, managing to get it halfway open before giving up and focusing on her breasts from there. Beckett groaned and attacked his pants, almost forcing them down before the zipper was fully pulled down. Castle grunted, sucking harshly on her skin.

"You… now…" Beckett managed to squeeze a few words out, then simply grabbed the front of his boxers and rubbed a couple of times. Better to show then to tell in certain situations.

Castle obliged--there was something definitely frantic in her movements, a need that he couldn't put down as simply sexual. While impatient, Beckett liked to have fun during sex. She liked to make comments, to tease and be teased (but not too much, or she'd get rough). Even when she told him to 'just shut up', her eyes sparkled with hidden mirth. Not so, now. She hadn't spoken a word, except for two broken phrases a second ago, and there was no laughter hidden in her eyes. She wasn't smolder and flame today. She was wildfire, consuming hungrily, eating up everything in her path with desperate ferocity. She was a raging sea, crashing onto the shore and sucking, sucking it all up into her depths.

When he entered her, she clenched around him repeatedly, purposefully, before relaxing. She let him control the angle, depth… all of it. Castle felt a little like he'd been made king for a day. He would have basked in the feeling more, except that he was concerned about the reasons, so he took his time, thrusting slowly and mapping out her skin with his hands and mouth. Beckett made little sound, although her body trembled and arched appropriately. When he felt himself draw near, he began to work her with his hand, bridging the gap between them and finishing her off just after he did.

He moved to get them cleaned up--time was of the essence at the moment--but Beckett grabbed him. For the first time that day, she was his Beckett, warm and real and alive, kissing him and murmuring.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you…" Over and over again, a mantra that seeped into his skin like her clinging kisses.

Castle grabbed her wrists and pulled her back to look into her eyes. A momentary flashback--a comparison to another, earlier time… only she was dripping wet with rain then, and he was distrustful and shocked… and it was different now, so different…

"Thank you for what?" He asked.

She smiled at him as she had smiled then, full of hope and realization and fruition. "For being my safe place."

Damn the therapist, damn this entire assignment--he kissed her for as long as his aching lungs would let him, never caring if someone walked in. She was a mystery he'd never solve, a book that he would never tire of reading, but the fact that she was letting him try was the greatest gift that he could ever imagine receiving.


	6. Biker Bar

Beckett leaned over the pool table, knocking another ball neatly into the pocket. She made a show of strutting around the table, leaning on the cue to watch the bearded biker she was playing line up his shot. She smirked as his ball smacked into the other one just a little too hard, sending it ricocheting off the edge of the pocket and roll back onto the green. She shifted her feet, ready to move forward and take her shot, when she was enveloped in sudden warmth. Warm hands, a warm chest against her back, and warm breath at her neck and ear.

"I leave for two minutes and this is what happens?" His voice was dark and gravelly, almost… deadly. She repressed a shudder.

"He hates it when I flirt." She smirked at her pool partner before turning her attention back to her partner who was  _not supposed to be here, what the hell?_  "I was bored," she explained, turning her head just enough so that he could see her naughty grin. He hummed disbelievingly as he hands spanned her stomach under her too-tight shirt.

She turned in his arms, refusing to allow the element of surprise to give him the chance to dominate the situation. Reaching up, she slipped one arm around his back while clutching at his leather jacket with the other (leather? Where the fuck did he get leather? And why had he never worn it before because it looked really, really good…).

"Miss me?" She whispered huskily before tilting her head, kissing his five o'clock shadow. "What. The. Hell." She ground out in his ear, confident that they looked to anyone else like just another couple making out.

"You really think I was going to let Gates stop me from getting in on this?" Castle asked.

"This is a  _biker bar_ , Castle. Not really your style."

The moment the words were out, she realized she'd made a grave error. He pulled back slightly, just enough to allow her to see how dark his eyes had become. "Is it, now?" He asked. She shivered, just a little.

He kissed her for real then, his mouth swallowing hers, gripping her tightly enough that her back bent arched just a little--it was because of him, really, it wasn't her body reacting that way naturally to his touch--and then their tongues were together and she couldn't get enough and ugh just…

Then he pulled back, grinning feral and wild and  _dark_.

"So you thought you could just waltz in here and bend me over the pool table?" She demanded quietly.

"Like at my place?" He asked, leering. He leaned forward, his mouth caressing her ear.

Beckett's mind cast about for the plethora of memories before she could shut that train of thought down. There really wasn't a place in the Old Haunt that they hadn't tried at this point.

"Castle…" It was a warning hiss, but it didn't carry much weight as she was biting on the tendons in his neck at the same time.

Talking during making out was so normal by now, so  _them_ , that she hadn't realized they were still going at it, Castle kissing messily down her neck while she gripped him hard enough to leave crescent-shaped red marks in his back. That is, she didn't realize until it dawned on her that at least half the bar was watching them.

She was pretty sure it was Esposito who started the catcalls and wolf whistling.

"We don't have to stay in here, do we?" Castle asked, breathing hotly into her ear. His left hand was cupping her ass while his right hand fisted itself in her hair at the base of her skull.

"Our man's not due for another hour--we just got here fifteen minutes ago," she explained, her words passed from her mouth to his, swallowed and digested rapidly.

"Then you're coming with me." He turned, his hand slipping down to grab her wrist and lead her out the back door towards the alley. The eyes of everyone in the room watched them go.

"What's this?" She asked as soon as they closed the door on the pounding rock music and the stench of sweat and cheap beer.

"It's your break, of course," he explained. He pinned her against the wall of the building, one leg slipping between hers.

Several replies raced through Beckett's head, but she did have a while until their scheduled mark would arrive (for a criminal with several warrants out for his arrest, the guy was like clockwork), and the boys could probably handle it until then, and she  _was_  pissed at Gates for saying Castle couldn't come, and…

Her train of thought was thoroughly derailed when Castle began to breathe on her. That is to say, his mouth was hovering just over the skin of her chest as he pulled at her shirt, the promise of his touch sending hot oil through her veins instead of blood.

Beckett grasped at him, pulling him up, wanting to taste him, hold him, just get him there, yes, please… She gasped against his skin as he pressed his thigh up against her.

"I thought I said no more walls?" She said, even as she let him slip his fingers underneath the waist of her jean shorts.

"Actually, what you said was that next time there had to be a bed, and while it was a couch, I think that still kind of counts--apples!" Castle choked out their safe word as Beckett tugged on his ear with her teeth--and not in a sexy way.

"How 'bout this," she said, tugging at his belt. "From now on, no more walls, doors, or other vertical surfaces. Got it?"

Judging by his glazed expression as he watched her mouth move, he hadn't taken in anything she'd just said. Beckett tugged at his belt again. For some reason her motor skills had vanished, and she could barely even undo the damn buckle. Castle pushed his hands up her body, skimming the underwire of her bra. Everywhere his fingers trailed, they raised burning goose bumps. Each touch was so hot it made her shiver.

That was something she'd come to expect, but never ceased to appreciate, in her partner. She fascinated him. She didn't understand it, but for some reason he had chosen her, found her irresistible, and spent a great deal of time on her. Even now, here they were, in the narrow back alley of a fucking  _biker bar_ , and he was taking his time with her.

He slid his mouth over her breast, his hands still making her stomach muscles jump. His palms pressed against them, reveling in their reaction to his touch, before moving around to her back and lower. He tugged down her pants, pushing them down her legs, his hands straying down with them, taking far longer than necessary to feel the silk of her skin over her taut muscles. If he had time, he would have dropped to the ground and spent a good hour on those legs, but unfortunately someone was bound to see them eventually and technically Beckett was on a case, so… down to business, then.

Beckett finally, finally,  _finally_  got the stupid fucking belt buckle undone, her fingers shaking like a crack addict (oh, wow, she was spending way too much time in that biker bar if that was the analogy her brain came up with) as she tried to get his pants off. Impatience carried the day and she shoved them down (with his briefs) with a grunt of satisfaction. Beckett: 1 Pants: 0

Castle pinned her further against the alley wall, bracing his hands on either side of her so that he could push his body flush against hers. Beckett worked her hand down between them, getting a hold of him and stroking the hot flesh. Her entire body shuddered in anticipation, hot and cold working through her veins and creating an indescribable mix. Beckett worked her wrist, making Castle's eyes roll back a little.

"Kate--seriously, don't–" Castle groaned, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. He lifted her up, and then it was her turn to roll her eyes back a bit.

The thought that this was incredibly cliché, that this bar probably saw people going at it on the pool table, never mind the back alley, but she really didn't care. And if she was supposed to be pretending she was a biker chick, then this all worked, didn't it?

As they moved, the oil running thick through her bloodstream began to burn, set to a match and roaring into an inferno. Every skin cell was a tongue of flame, transforming her until she couldn't even think. It was all about that spot, right  _there_ , and all that it did to her, his skin under her hands and her mouth and his mouth and going higher and really, walls weren't so bad… not when they let him do  _oh god that yes_ …

The fire had turned her to glass, and she splintered, breaking into a thousand pieces and falling, crashing to the ground but oh, it was so beautiful, too wonderful to handle, but then his hot mouth claimed hers again and he remade her, reshaped her, bringing her back to herself.

Beckett had done it in alleys before, in bars not too different from the one she was supposed to be staking out, but never had there been a beauty to it. It had never felt natural. She owed that feeling to the man she was now with, the one holding her with a crushing intensity, the dark desire of his eyes unable to hide the spark of warm, pure Castle.

They stood together for a moment, leaning on each other to prevent their knees from buckling with exhaustion. Castle bit and sucked all over her neck and chest, and Beckett knew that if they were home in bed he'd be gearing up for Round Two. She chuckled.

"I have to get back in there, Castle," she murmured.

He closed his eyes, breathing her in, unwilling to let her go. He pulled back slowly. "Only if I go in with you." He went on before she could protest. "Not for the entire time--just to, you know…"

"Mark your territory? What is this, Castle, the prehistoric era?" Beckett teased. He gave her his best puppy dog eyes. She huffed. "Fine. But you can only stay for a minute."

"A minute is all I need," he assured her, winking.

Beckett rolled her eyes.

Upon reentering the bar, the eyes of every voyeur and creep were on them as they made their way towards the counter. When they reached it, Castle dipped her, bending Beckett over it backwards, kissing her soundly enough to make even Rhett Butler jealous.

"Don't stay up too late," he growled in her ear, teasing her.

"See you later." She winked saucily, making sure the rest of the bar could see her.

Castle stalked out in true bad-boy fashion, leaving Beckett to settle in next to Ryan and Esposito as they sipped their drinks, trying to look everywhere but at her.

"So what did I miss?" She asked nonchalantly. Ryan choked on his drink.

She decided not to tell Castle that she kind of liked the whole 'marking his territory' thing.


	7. Illegal Casino

Castle wanted it to be universally known that it was not the underground casino that they were supposed to be busting. He also wanted it known that Gates wanted him there on that occasion, because she somehow knew about his poker nights and felt his abilities would be needed. Oh, and since we're all putting this in the record anyway, he would like everybody to know that the case was still wrapped up in a pretty little bow and no harm was done.

Also, he was not the one who pulled the fire alarm. Despite suspicions to the contrary.

Now that was all cleared up, this was how the night went…

Castle sat at the table, eyeing the competition. According to the chips in front of him, he was going big or going home. As the woman peering over his shoulder and the mole working the cash-to-chips knew, it wasn't his own money. He could play all night, as long as he didn't go too big. Then he'd be going home in a body bag.

With Beckett most likely rolling her eyes at his stupidity. Although the egotistical part of him did like the idea of her crying heartbrokenly over his coffin at his funeral. The chivalrous, caring part of him mentally smacked the other part of him for harboring such thoughts.

Beckett breathed down the back of his neck, her fingers moving from his shoulder to dip underneath his shirt collar. Her other arm was draped over the back of his chair, almost touching but not quite. She'd been driving him crazy like that all night.

It went like this: Every ten seconds, she would find a new way to surreptitiously touch him. Every minute or so, she would lean down and whisper something in his ear. When he won a round, she'd French kiss him with such fervor that the other men glared jealously.

Had someone slipped something in her coffee that morning?

Castle moved to put some of his chips in the pot, when someone came thumping down the stairs.

"Cops!" The sweating, red-faced young man yelled.

Everyone jumped up like their pants were on fire.

And that was when some idiot ( _not him!_ ) pulled the fire alarm, turning on the ceiling sprinklers and soaking everyone.

It was nothing short of pandemonium as chairs were knocked over, people shouted, men demanded their money back, employees dashed around trying to clear out, and everything generally went to pot.

Castle stood, staring at the whirlwind of frantic activity around him, then turned to Beckett. "Do you know anything about this?" He asked.

She shook her head. "We're just here to find our guy, not bust up the place. We're not working with Vice like with the fight club."

Castle frowned, watching as the last few people cleared out. "Um… I think we're the last ones here." He turned, only to find Beckett no more than an inch away from them.

"How about that?" She asked, smiling predatorily.

Castle opened his mouth to say something--something… witty, yeah, it was clever and witty and--okay, she was kissing him again.

He could live with that.

Castle brought his hands up to cup her face, surprised as Beckett continued to kiss him repeatedly everywhere that she could reach. She frantically undid his tie and the buttons of his shirt, pushing it open and kissing her way down.

"Um… Beckett? Aren't the police going to burst in any minute?" Castle asked.

"They'll be too busy with rounding up the panicking people outside to come in for a bit. I'm pretty sure they're the ones who pulled the fire alarm to flush all the rats out."

"Yeah, but Beckett--why are you…?"

She stopped, her tongue still pressed against his chest, and slowly raised her burning eyes up to meet his. "Castle, are you telling me it's okay for men to be randomly super horny and not women?"

Okay, well, when you put it like that…

"No?" Castle finally answered.

"Good. Now that we're clear…" Beckett went back to orally working her way down his body.

She got his pants down to his ankles in record time. She breathed hot air over his boxers, smiling with wicked glee at the response she got. Castle yanked her back up.

"Oh, no, you don't," he growled. "I'm not letting you have all the fun this time."

Beckett tugged her lower lip in between her teeth. "You mean like last night?"

Castle pushed her back onto the poker table, and then leaned on top of her. "Exactly," he said, his voice deep and rumbling. He pushed her dress up as far as it would go, exposing her long legs and torso. Beckett grinned.

Castle leaned down, wiping the grin off her face with his mouth. Beckett moaned, bucking her hips insistently. She slipped her hand underneath his boxers, grabbing him. Castle broke off the kiss, focusing his attention instead on the creamy neck calling out to him.

"Rick…" She groaned. He loved how her pulse point jumped when he put his lips on it. "Just get  _on_  with it…"

"Y'know, someday I'm going to have to teach you patience…" Castle murmured.

"Great. Do it later," Beckett insisted, stroking him repeatedly.

Castle glanced towards the door. They really didn't have a lot of time, what with the whole cops breaking in any second thing, so he decided to postpone the lessons in virtue. And then he was in her and wondering what idiot thought up the idea of patience in the first place.

Beckett clutched at him, moving her body with his, and he allowed the sensations to overwhelm him. The wet slick skin from the overhead sprinklers, cool water contrasting against the hot fever burning them up inside, her hot, wet channel enveloping him, all of her around him, consuming him, dragging every drop of energy from him and…

Some strange, unidentifiable sounds registered somewhere in the back of his mind, but he was too far gone to care. There are rarely times when someone isn't thinking about other things and wholly absorbed in the present moment, but this was one of those times. There wasn't anything other than the feel of her, nothing but her and him and them together and hot, wet, hard, fast,  _good_.

But when they emerged out into the street, dripping wet, clothes askew, laughing and clinging to each other, five NYPD officers, all in various states of shock and embarrassment, met them by the door. It was about that time that Castle realized he probably should have paid attention to those "unidentifiable sounds."

The leader cleared his throat. "Detective Beckett?" He asked.

Beckett would have blanched, if she'd been the type of girl to do so. Instead, she took it in stride. "Hey, Mark. We were doing some undercover work, didn't know you had a bust planned."

Mark nodded. "We went in, but um, we thought you might, well… need some time."

"As long as you managed to arrest the guy we want along with everyone else, we're good."

And that was how they ended up closing their case, without starting the rush for the door or the fire alarm and yet still getting their butts hauled up in front of Gates. But, as he'd noted before, this was not his fault.

It was Beckett's.

Just so that everything was cleared up.


	8. Comic Con

Coat? Check.

Boots? Check.

Gloves? Check.

Gun? Check.

Castle strode out of the bedroom, whistling. And Alexis had said that this Halloween costume was out of date… Ha! Who had the last laugh now?

"You are way too into that costume," Beckett announced from where she waited by the door. She wore tight brown pants held up by a thick black belt, with high lace-up black boots and a light, long-sleeved green shirt, which was covered by a brown leather tank top. Her hair was curled and pulled back in a loose half-up style. The only jewelry she wore was a leather cuff on her right wrist, and a thin leather braided strap of some kind that was wound around her neck.

Castle stared at her. "Okay, now that is hot."

Beckett shook her head, smiling. "C'mon, Castle. We'll be late."

He hurried after her. "Can I just say that–"

"No, Castle," Beckett called over her shoulder.

* * *

There were many conventions dedicated to celebrating all things geeky, but ComicCon took the cake. It had everything. Television shows, movies, books, comics, video games… everything. From stalls to displays to interactive games to Q&A sessions, this place had it all. Castle and Beckett's outfits weren't as extreme as some, but they fit right in.

"I haven't been here in years," she proclaimed, looking around.

"You were here?" Castle asked, stunned. "You went to ComicCon?"

"Comics girl, remember?" She reminded him. "My dream for a while was to meet Stan Lee."

"Need I remind you that Batman is better?" Castle asked.

"Need I remind you that I don't care?" Beckett said sweetly.

"Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal," Castle muttered dramatically.

Beckett ignored him in favor of looking around. "Okay, so he's one of the auctioneers, so which conference room would the auctions be in…?"

Castle tugged on her sleeve. "Ooh! G.R.R. Martin's doing an exclusive reading from  _The Winds of Winter_! I spoke with him the other day and he said he is going to make an eighth one--do you want to know the title?"

Beckett didn't reply.

"It's called  _A Time For Wolves_. Isn't that cool?"

"Castle!"

"Right, focusing."

Beckett rolled her eyes, and then pressed the microphone in her shirt. "Espo, can you hear me?"

There was the sound of static, and then they heard Ryan talking.

"Testing, testing. Hey, Espo, can you hear me?"

Esposito replied. "I'm standing right here."

"You're coming through good and loud."

"That's 'cause I'm standing right here."

There was another period of static, and then the sound of one of the boys yelling 'uncle.' Esposito then came over the line.

"Yo Beckett, you read?"

"Are you boys finished fooling around?" Beckett asked. She grinned at Castle, though, who was trying not to laugh.

"Um, yeah, we're good," Ryan replied. "We're on the south end of the hotel, conducting some employee interviews."

"If you need us, let us know," Esposito said.

"In case, you know, some local color or something happens," Ryan added.

"Yeah, we can make a grand entrance," Esposito said.

"I swear, ever since that big fight club bust, they're all about storming in guns blazing," Beckett muttered. She spoke into the mike again. "We should be good. Just keep working on your end."

"Roger that," Ryan said. The boys cut out.

Beckett saw Castle's grin and grinned back, a little confused. "What?" She asked.

He pointed towards one of the big signs. "The auctions don't start for another two hours."

" _Go-se_ ," Beckett muttered.

"Language!" Castle quipped. "Although, I'm surprised that you know Chinese…"

"Just a little. My roommate at Stanford was from China. She had the filthiest mouth."

"Ooh, really? What else do you know?" Castle asked.

Beckett's lips quirked. " _Ching-wao tsao duh liou mahng_."

"And that means…"

"Frog-humping sonofabitch."

Castle's mouth dropped open as Beckett continued to saunter through the crowd.

One hour later, and Beckett was starting to get impatient. Normally she'd love being at a place like this, but at the moment she was on the job. And when she was on the job, she wanted to finish the job. Castle didn't fail to notice her growing irritation.

"Hey, you want to go look at that stall?" He asked, gesturing.

"They're geisha dolls, Castle," Beckett said. She glanced at the clock high up on the wall. Castle followed her gaze.

"Time's not going to move faster if you keep checking on it, Beckett."

Beckett sighed. "I just wish there was a way to pass the time that  _didn't_  keep reminding me about the job. This man might be the murder, and if so then he's holding Jenny somewhere and…"

Before she could spiral into a drawn-out sentence about the implications of murder and kidnapping victims and all the rest, Castle slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her.

"What was that for?" Beckett asked, not at all displeased.

"I'm distracting you," Castle explained patiently.

Beckett smiled slyly. "Well, let's find a room for some proper distracting."

They quickly worked their way through the crowd, passing several booths before turning right towards the conference rooms. Several were being used but a few were empty, including one that had been used that morning and now stood, barren until that evening, when the  _Iron Man 3_  panel would be held. Castle and Beckett darted in, closing the door behind them.

Castle turned, scooping Beckett up and kissing her thoroughly. She smiled against his mouth, jumping up into his arms and wrapping her legs around him. He tried to walk a couple of paces, but his knees began to buckle so he lowered them to the floor. Beckett laughed, lying down on her back and gazing up at him.

"Microphones," she reminded him, quickly removing their hidden mikes and setting them to the side. "And no telling about how easily you distract me."

"I won't," Castle promised.

Beckett grinned. "Then I won't tell anyone how you nearly flipped out at seeing Leonard Nimoy."

Castle had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'd take that as a kindness."

Beckett laughed, and then pulled him to her. His tongue slid into her mouth, making her moan, and her grip on him tightened. She rocked her body against his, encouraging him to hurry up. Castle worked his hands around to the back, undoing the ties of her leather top and pulling it off of her. Now that a good bit more skin was exposed, he latched his mouth onto her, slowly laving his tongue down her neck. Beckett pushed his coat off of him, tugging his shirt out from his pants. She ran her hands over his chest.

"You do realize we're fulfilling about every geek's fantasy right about now?" Castle asked, pulling her shirt off.

"Does that include you?" Beckett asked, pushing against his chest and rolling him so that she was on top.

"Maybe," Castle quipped, thrusting up against her. Beckett groaned, her eyes sliding shut for a moment. She opened them again, trying to undo his pants, her movements significantly more frantic. Castle propped himself up on his elbows, yanking her down enough for him to continue to get at as much of her skin as he could. Beckett got his pants undone, and then it was her turn.

"Why am I doing all the work here?" She asked.

Castle said something, but his mouth was full of her left breast so she couldn't make out what he was saying. She arched her back, his fingers digging into her waist as he held her in place. Beckett tossed her hair out of her face, forcing Castle's head back. He released her breast with an audible popping sound, and Beckett dove for him, spearing her tongue into his mouth and drawing him into battle. Together they managed to get her tight pants off--Castle made some quip about "Detective Tight Pants"--and then it was just skin and skin and more skin, hot and smooth and addicting.

Beckett had no hesitation, slipping onto him and beginning to move almost at once. She was a warrior woman, in command of the situation and herself, setting the pace and demanding he keep up. Which he did, without complaint. He moved with her, holding her to him, keeping her close. It wasn't cultured or artistic. It was hard and fast and sometimes sloppy, but oh, it was all the more perfect for that. If she'd been wearing lipstick, he'd have smeared it. At one point they were going so fiercely that all they could do was pant into each other's mouths, gasps and pants exchanged with frantic ferocity.

Castle could feel his end approaching, and he grabbed Beckett's hips, holding her into place and shifting her, just enough, so that he could change the angle. He knew he'd hit the jackpot when she gave a cry, a chorus of  _yes_  beginning to spill out of her mouth as he finished, catching her and dragging her will him over the edge, allowing them both to fly.

Beckett's hair was a damp curtain of brown covering his chest as she lay there, trying to catch her breath. There was the faint sound of someone yelling, and Beckett reached for the discarded microphones.

"What?" She barked.

"Ryan's panicking about something," Castle remarked.

Esposito responded to Beckett. "Ryan wants you to know that our guy isn't doing the auctions that we thought he was--he's going to be doing the ones on the other side of the hotel."

Beckett groaned. Castle beamed. "It's a real burn, being right all the time."

She glared at him.

"Ryan wants to move, but I told him we had to talk to you first."

"Please remind Ryan what the chain of command around here is," Beckett said exasperatedly. There was a pause before she completed her thought. "It's the chain I'll beat him with to show him who's in command."

Esposito's laugh came through, and then Ryan's indignant spluttering. Beckett smiled. "We'll get down there, boys, no need to worry. Castle might even get that rare 'original Kirk Star Trek phaser' he's been drooling over."

"It's a sacred relic!" Castle protested. "It's like the Mona Lisa of gun replicas!"

Beckett rolled her eyes, but kissed him anyway. "Let's go, Castle."

"If this is a success, can we spend the rest of the day here?" Castle asked, pulling on his pants.

Beckett thought a moment, and then grinned. "Sure."

Meanwhile, on the south side of the hotel…

Ryan looked over at Esposito. "Did Beckett seem a little funny to you?" He asked.

Esposito shrugged. "Nah, man. Besides, we all know that I'm the funny one."

Ryan nodded to himself and went back to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd almost forgotten about my low-key obsession with Firefly at the time. Ah, young Mads, you had so much to learn.


	9. Strip Club

Her body moved sinuously along the pole, her hips gyrating to the rhythm of the pulsing, primal music. She moved like a snake, twisting and sliding, only she was… smoother. Like water, rippling and silky and tantalizing to the senses.

Speaking of water, Castle seriously needed a tall, cold glass of it, and not the kind that was wrapped around that damn pole right now.

He was half-convinced she was going at it so enthusiastically because she knew that it was driving him nuts. Beckett unwound herself from the pole, lifting her leg higher than he'd thought possible, before prancing in her ridiculously high heels down the stage. She crouched down right in front of him, smiling seductively. She was way too good at this--was this how she'd paid for Stanford?

"Like what you see?" She asked coyly, leaning forward and giving him a generous view.

That was the code phrase.  _We need to talk._

"I like it enough to ask for a private showing," Castle replied, leering at her.

Beckett winked. "I like a man who goes after what he wants."

She stood up, towering over him on the stage, her legs going for miles. He wished he could just lean forward and grab them, pull her into his lap and ravish her, but he'd be kicked out for sure. Instead, he allowed her to lead him through the red-lit main room and to the back, where the private viewing rooms lay. Beckett gestured towards one of them.

"Go on in, baby. I'll be there in a minute." She gave him a saucy wink and entering through a different door. Beckett never used pet names except in the heat of sex, and her use of one only served to remind him that this was a game they were playing. Even if the attraction was real, the rest of it was pandering to those who might be watching.

Castle settled himself on the lone couch that ran along the wall of the small, dimly lit room. A moment later music began to play – smooth, deep jazz, with a properly gravelly-voiced singer humming every other line. He vaguely recognized the artist as Hugo, but the song wasn't ringing a bell. Still, it was an excellent pick.

_She tastes like midnight,_

_She tastes like wine._

_She tastes like midnight,_

_She tastes like wine._

The curtain at the other end of the room split slightly as Beckett slipped through it. She had changed her outfit into a thong and partially see-through corset, both of a red so deep and rich it was darker than wine. She glided over to the pole in the middle of the room, wrapping her hands around it tightly and sliding them up above her head, anchoring her to the pole and giving her to leeway to lift her left leg up, up, up and wrap it around and turn, slowly, so that she was swinging around to face him. Her hair was full and just slightly curled at the ends, a soft curtain that alternately hid and framed her face. She winked again, her smoky eyeliner shining softly in the light.

Castle swallowed, trying to clear his dry throat. He was in for a long night.

Beckett slid up and down the pole, swaying her hips in time to the music. Occasionally, she would throw her head back, or rotate around it. She pranced, danced, and wiggled with all the smooth ease and sexy confidence of a pro. She had her audience of one completely enthralled – and she knew it. In all fairness, it had to be admitted that Beckett was sparing no expense, so to speak. Except for the whole 'look but don't touch' aspect, she was giving him the full show. By the time the song reached its end, Castle was ready to spring out of his jeans. Fuck. He wanted to touch her so  _badly_.

Smirking knowingly, Beckett stalked over to him. Castle had a sudden vision of a tiger in the forest. She was the predator, and he was the prey. His member twitched at the thought.

When Beckett reached him, she lowered herself so that her head was in between his slightly spread legs. "I see you liked the show," she purred.

Castle cleared his throat. "Yeah," he managed to squeak out. He mentally slapped his forehead. That was all he could come up with? Really? Get a grip, Rick.

Beckett's smile grew and she bit her lip in anticipation. She leaned in so closely that he could feel her hot breath on his crotch. He could almost feel his pupils dilate.

"I believe the tradition is  _dinner_  and a show…" She drawled, licking her lips hungrily.

Castle's mind was flooded with images of her feeding him fruit… or chocolate… or herself. He knew from experience that he could feast on her body for hours. But Beckett wasn't in a particularly generous mood--she was in the mood to take what she wanted.

And what she wanted was Castle.

She sat up on her knees, nudging his legs further open with her shoulders as she began to undo his pants. Castle shot straight up.

"Wha–"

"Relax," Beckett instructed him, her voice low and raw. "I'm a professional."

Castle made the decision to buy her a year's supply of that eye shadow.

Beckett's smile turned from simply predatory to pure, greedy hunger. Her eyes gleamed like coals in the heart of a fire, set alight and burning with flame, yet dark as a moonless night. She removed him from his boxers, taking him in hand. He was hot and heavy, and it was as if a jet of heat shot from him through her hand and straight into her core, making her body quake.

"You can't touch," she whispered, every word dripping with molten heat, "But there's nothing that says I can't."

She leaned forward and took him into her mouth, licking him up and down like it was the best lollipop she'd ever tasted. Her eyes swiftly closed, allowing her to revel in the sensation of his taste alone. Her hand and tongue twisted in tandem, causing Castle to groan and violently throw his head back. His nails were digging so deeply into his palms that he was certain he'd drawn blood.

"Ka-ate," he choked out.

Beckett didn't stop, but rather began to draw him all the way in. Every so often she would lightly scrape her teeth along his shaft, her hand never ceasing to work the base of him. Castle clenched his teeth, struggling not to make a lot of noise. This was every kind of wrong, but God help him, he didn't have the willpower to stop her. Not when she was making him feel this good.

She was deepthroating him in earnest now, but every time she sensed he was close to the brink (although, in all honesty, sometimes the sensation of him hitting the back of her throat just once was enough to do it), she'd ease up, keeping him constantly on edge.

Beckett cracked open one eye to look at him. Castle's jaw was so tight she thought he might grind his teeth down to nothing, and there were two beads of sweat working their way from his hairline down the sides of his face. His fists were clenched and pressed into the seat of the couch, and his head was tipped back to rest against the wall.

She drew back slowly, hollowing out her cheeks slightly. Castle groaned.

"Castle," she instructed.

He didn't respond, only focused on his breathing.

"Rick."

He opened his eyes to look at her.

"Good boy," she said. Castle knew what that meant. He did as she wanted and kept his eyes fixed on her as she took him into her mouth. This time, she hollowed out her cheeks completely, taking him all the way in and then sucking powerfully as she slid him back out, swirling her tongue. The third time she did it, he lost it, the combination of the sensations on his cock and actually watching her undo him finally ending him.

He stuffed his fist into his mouth, but the sound of his release still escaped (albeit muffled). Beckett sat back on her heels, satisfied, looking every inch the cat that ate the canary. When Castle had gotten his heart rate back down to normal, he opened his eyes again. He couldn't speak as Beckett stood, planting a hand on the side of his head and leaning in.

"Mmm… tasty," she whispered.

Castle lunged forward, snagging the back of her neck and pulling her to him, kissing her fiercely. His tongue delved into her mouth, pulled hers out and drew it into his, sucking on it. He could taste himself on her. He growled, gently biting her bottom lip as she drew away.

"Don't worry," Beckett assured him. "That was just an appetizer. We'll both get to feast later on."

She slipped a folded piece of paper into his inner jacket pocket. The info they needed.

"Are there cameras or something in here?" He asked in a whisper.

Beckett put a finger to her lips, pouting and shaking her head. "Later," she promised him. Then she turned and walked back across the room, slinky as a cat, and vanished through the curtain.

The next afternoon, with the information delivered and the next step in the operation ready to go, the couple snagged some down time at the loft before the work of the evening.

"So were there cameras?" Castle asked, drawing his finger slowly up Beckett's thigh. "Because I'm pretty sure you weren't allowed to do that--unless the club has some other under-the-table stuff we didn't know about."

Beckett shook her head, grinning. "Nope. There was no requirement that I touch you or service you in any fashion."

"Then why did you…?" He stared at her.

Beckett shrugged. "Can't a girl give her guy a pole dance just for kicks?"

Castle stared at her, mouth open. "You did that… just as an excuse to give me a pole dance?"

Beckett lay there, smiling.

Castle's eyes darkened and he pounced on her, her giggles echoing through the entire loft.


	10. Mardi Gras

Beckett held on fiercely to Castle's hand as they plunged through the crowd. To say that the streets were busy would be a gross understatement; every square inch of pavement was filled with dancing, laughing, half-drunk revelers bedecked with cheap necklaces and colorful shirts. Banners, streamers, and beaded strings of purple, green and gold hung from window to window, over the street, dangling from cart covers and balcony railings. Cajun bands played on every corner, moving people to spontaneously dance to the music, as everything from modern rap to Zydeco blared from radios placed in open windows above. It was a madcap swirl of alcohol, color, music and laughter.

The rebellious part of Beckett, the bad girl that still resided deep down inside of her, nudged her towards the parades and dancers, the drinking stalls and carnival games. And if they were there for vacation, she would have. She would have dragged her all-too-eager boyfriend around until there wasn't a narrow, winding street in the city they hadn't covered. But they weren't there on vacation. They were there on business. Business that was, annoyingly, extremely difficult to do at this moment.

It could only be the work of a darkly humorous God that made it so their informer was here, at this place, at this time. Beckett was half-certain that somewhere above the stars a big old guy on a golden throne was laughing his ass off.

"Why the hell did this Mama Odie have to be in New Orleans during fucking Mardi Gras?" Beckett grumbled--well, shouted, really. It was the only way anyone had a chance of being heard over the collective racket.

"I think it's fun." Castle grinned. "Besides, it's kind of obvious. There's lots of money to be made for people like her with all the tourists around. Come and get your fortune told by a real Cajun mystic…" He intoned in a deep voice.

Beckett slapped him playfully. "Cut it out. Now, the necklace seller said that her shop was on Sheldon Row, just after Queen's Boulevard…"

"Which we are on now," Castle pointed out.

"So it should be around here somewhere!" Beckett growled in frustration.

A group of college students, clearly plastered beyond belief, staggered past, pushing Beckett into Castle, who stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to keep his balance while holding Beckett out of the way of the inebriated young adults.

It ended up being a fortunate turn of events, however, because Beckett was facing Castle and looked over his shoulder behind them. She frowned.

"Castle…" She said slowly. "Don't look like you're looking, but I want you to check out that guy standing by the hat stall. He's wearing a bulky brown-and-blue jacket and blue jeans."

Castle turned slightly, inspecting the back of his pants like he was afraid someone had spilled something on them. He turned back to Beckett. "The one with the five o'clock shadow who looks half-African American?"

Beckett nodded, smiling in case the guy could see her expression. "He was with us back when we were talking to the necklace seller, and I think I saw him near the Palmist stand, too."

"Do you think he's a part of the Jaguar Triad?" Castle asked.

"I think we're being followed," Beckett replied. "He must be watching to see if we're headed to Mama Odie's."

"Then let's not go there," Castle responded. "Shake him off, convince him we're just here to have a good time. If he thinks we're just another party-hardy couple, he'll back off and we can find our all-seeing enchantress later."

Beckett rolled her eyes at his description of the fortuneteller, but nodded. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "Convince him we're just here to have fun."

Castle nodded, grinning again. "It's Mardi Gras, Beckett, what else are people here for?"

With that, he pulled her in for a kiss. Beckett melted against him, letting him press her close and stroke his tongue along hers, nuzzling her when they broke apart. "C'mon, Kate," he whispered. "Let's have fun."

They tried some fritters and funnel cakes, sipped Mint Juleps, wore cheap beaded necklaces and took in the sights. Castle pulled Beckett in to dance at one point, and spun her around until she was giddy and lightheaded and felt like she was sixteen again, young and carefree, no dead mother, no cop duties, just her and the cute boy from school having a good time. It was more liberating than she cared to admit.

After about an hour, Beckett forgot about their mission. She forgot about everything. Castle always had a tendency to make her do that, but with the frenzied celebrations going on helping them out, Beckett completely left her detective self behind. She was wild and carefree. And she hadn't even had a beer yet.

She decided that she wanted to have a little more fun.

Pulling Castle down an impossibly tiny alley, Beckett began to kiss him. Castle stiffened and protested, saying something about work and all, but Beckett ignored him.

"Is that guy still following us?" She asked.

"Uh… well… yes." Castle stuttered.

"Then let's give him something to watch." Beckett winked. "Up the ante," She kissed his pulse point, "Make him absolutely certain that we're just here" She sucked at his collarbone, "To have  _fun_."

Castle couldn't argue with that. He pressed her against the wall, his hands skimming up and down her sides. Beckett hummed appreciatively and nipped at his neck. Castle shuddered, his body immediately waking up as Beckett continued to keep him pressed up against her. Castle growled and grabbed her wrists, forcing her to release her hold on his shirt. He pinned her arms up above her head and pressed his mouth against hers, drawing her tongue into battle. Beckett lifted her hips to keep as much of their bodies connected as possible, making a sound of protest at her inability to move her arms.

"Castle…" She hissed warningly.

"What? This is fun for me." His trademark impish grin was firmly planted on his face as he licked his way down her neck.

Beckett's eye rolling was interrupted by a gasp as Castle's hand slipped under her shirt. "God, Castle, your hands are freezing!"

"Well then you should warm me up." Her skin was certainly warm enough to do that--she felt feverish all over, trembling and hot, burning even, shaking with pleasure as Castle's hand slid over her skin.

"Rick…" She breathed. She wanted to be wild and reckless, the way she had when she was nineteen. Only this time, she was doing it right. She was going to do it with someone she cared about, someone she trusted, someone that would be as out of control and crazy as she was, but would be there for her in the morning.

"Mmm…" Castle buried his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. "Love the way you smell…" He murmured.

"Castle, could you please just…" Beckett couldn't finish her sentence. It was not fair, it was just not fucking fair that he could wind her up in ten seconds like this!

"Getting there," he assured her, slipping his leg in between her thighs, allowing her to rock against him and give her some relief. He released her wrists so that he could use run both hands over her body, the touch of his skin against hers only making her fever rage all the more. Beckett's hands gripped his shoulders fiercely, digging in her nails and rocking against his thigh.

"C'mon, Castle…" Beckett said coyly. Castle stopped creating hickeys and looked up at her.

"Don't give me that look," he warned.

"What look?" Beckett feigned innocence.

"The one where you purposefully try to seduce me. It doesn't work."

"Really?" Beckett ground against his thigh again, tipping her head back against the wall and smiling.

With a growl, Castle stood up to his full height and kissed her again, removing his hands from her body to undo his pants. The fever in Beckett's body reached new heights, like flames reaching for the sky, crackling and roaring with rage at the loss of contact. She fumbled with her own pants, her hands shaking too badly for her to accomplish much. Castle helped her out, and then they were both free. Beckett clawed at his back, pushing him up against her, trying desperately to feed the inner flames.

Castle's movements betrayed the frequency with which they performed this maneuver. Beckett groaned, finally feeling her fever begin to shift. It mutated, no longer a raging wildfire but a star, a ball of flame all focused on one particular point, pulsing and raging and bubbling until there was nothing left but instinct. The instinct to move, the instinct to touch, to feel, to be filled with him in every way possible, be it by touch or sound or sight or taste or smell.

And still the fever raged, consuming all, taking everything and demanding more until she couldn't give it more, there was nothing left to give, and she was burning up, burning like the sun, melting and crackling and nothing but pure heat until…

One burning point; on final, glorious moment of pulsing heat and then the fever began to abate. A feeling of wild beauty, of raw euphoria, replaced the previous fire in her veins. Her skin cooled deliciously, as refreshed as if plunged into a waterfall, and her every nerve sang with pleasure and release. She was giddy and exhausted, but the ache in her bones was a  _good_ ache, a wonderful one. She felt like a forest reborn after a storm of fire.

They carefully detangled themselves, Castle's breathing slowly coming back under his control. His t-shirt was stuck to him in places, as was hers, and their hair was properly disheveled. Beckett loved it. She didn't even bother fixing herself up as she put her pants back on. Let the world know what they'd been up to – it wasn't any different then what fifty or so other couples had done, or would do, that evening, and she was still feeling a little wild. Judging by the look on Castle's face, he wasn't opposed to prancing around New Orleans as-is either.

"Is he gone?" Beckett asked breathlessly.

"Yup." Castle chuckled. "Pretty sure he cleared out right around the time you started riding my leg."

Beckett groaned, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Thank God Ryan and Espo will never know about this."

"For twenty bucks they won't."

She hit him.

"Ah, apples! You know I wouldn't tell about this."

"Of course you won't. You value your life too much." Beckett grinned.

She was never going to get tired of seeing him smile.

"C'mon, Castle. Let's go find our witch doctor." She winked, leading him back out into the whirling, swirling, crazy crowd of revelers.


	11. Nude Modeling

"Artists have portrayed mythology since the dawn of time…" Mr. Palinski droned on. Beckett ignored him in favor of studying the various art students gathered in a circle around her. One of them was a little too good at reproducing Impressionist art. The distributor of the art was already dead, and Beckett and her team suspected that the artist would soon be as well.

The problem was which one it was. Hence, her current position on a cushioned podium in the center of the ring of students, wearing nothing but the skin she'd been born in.

Hey, she'd been through worse. It was all purely artistic, and Beckett had quickly found out the couple times she'd done it for extra money at Stanford that there was a definite difference between posing nude for magazines or porn and posing for art. The artists looked at her as if she was just another object, like a chair or landscape--something lovely to paint, but that was it. They were focused on her beauty but distanced from it, observers and expressionists.

"Sorry I'm late!"

Oh God. That had definitely better  _not_  be who she thought it was…

"I got lost in the hallways. Those are a veritable maze--you really should have more signs around here."

There was no mistaking that voice. Beckett kept her eyes fixed firmly upon a blank spot on the wall as Castle edged his way into the circle and set up his supplies. Directly in front of her, no less.

If she'd been allowed to move a muscle, she would have heaved a heavy sigh.

Castle looked completely at ease, relaxed, looking at her as casually as the others were.

He was far from at ease, relaxed, and casual.

When he'd learned of Beckett's undercover assignment--without being under the cover of anything--he'd been understandably upset. This was  _his_  girlfriend, and while Castle normally prided himself on being a forward-thinking man, that was still  _his woman_ , and he didn't enjoy the thought of sharing her with anybody, even if it was a bunch of starving artists. They were college students! He was in college once! He knew what people got up to in there!

If he'd been a collage kid, in this class, with someone like Beckett in front of him… well… that thought alone wanted to make him deck every boy in this class. Of course, he couldn't deck any lesbians because he couldn't hit a woman with a clear conscience, so if there were any he'd have to settle for a death glare.

What was more, he hadn't been allowed to come. Gates had refused. When he'd protested that Beckett might need backup, their captain had snorted.

"Backup?" She'd asked. "And just what life-threatening situation might Detective Beckett get into with an art class?"

Well, when you put it that way… but it was the principle of the thing, and the point of the matter was that Beckett was naked, in front of strangers. And every bit of testosterone in Castle's body was downright furious.

Which led him to said art class, sitting directly in front of Beckett so that there was no way she could miss his presence. He'd hoped to be there on time, but, well, those stupid hallways… but he was there now, and that was all that mattered.

Beckett spent the rest of the hour trying to avoid Castle's gaze. She kept her eyes fixed upon her chosen spot on the wall, her breathing as slow and even as she could make it. It was extremely difficult with Castle looking at her like that. She didn't even have to be looking directly at him--she could feel his gaze upon her, feel the jealousy and the protectiveness and the lust boring into her. She'd been turned on by Castle's eyes before, but now that there was nothing to protect her--no banter to hide behind, no way to respond in kind--she was exposed and raw and helplessly at his mercy. It was all she could do to keep the reason for her current position in mind.

By the time class was dismissed, Beckett felt like a piece of marble warmed by the sun. Cold and hard until hit by the warm light, and then slowly warmed until she was baking and scalding to the touch. She grabbed the nearby sheet the teacher had provided, wrapping it around her body like a towel, and spoke with Mr. Palinski for a moment. After thanking him, the man left to give her time to dress and clean up.

No sooner had the door closed behind him then it reopened, this time admitting the green-eyed monster himself.

He grinned at the daggers Beckett's eyes threw at him.

"Mind if I request a private session?"

Beckett arched at eyebrow at him, but made no move towards her clothes. He'd gotten her this turned on--he figured he owed her a little. And this classroom wasn't set to be used until much later that afternoon. If he was going to make good on the promise of his eyes, then who was she to stop him?

Castle stalked across the room, but when he reached her he did nothing more than finger the sheet she was now clothed in. "You think I'm an idiot."

His breath slowly curled over her skin, raising goose bumps. Chills raced up her spine, mingling with the heat in her belly.

"Kind of," she responded as evenly as she could.

"Well, I don't care," Castle replied. "You are mine, Kate--and I know that sounds terribly anti-feminist and caveman-esque but as I said I don't care. This body…" Here his dark gaze dropped down to her toes and worked its way back up to her eyes, causing another shiver to course through her, "Is just one piece of you, and I'm lucky enough that you've given me the opportunity to be with you--in every sense of the word. That's not something I take lightly, Kate. I'm yours, and you're mine, and that's quite simply all there is to it. And I defend what's mine. Even if it's from namby-pamby avant-garde art students who don't shower."

Beckett laughed in spite of herself. "That is terribly cliché."

"The description of the students? Or my jealousy?"

"Both," Beckett grinned. "But I like it."

Castle took that as permission and slipped his hands underneath the sheet. Beckett pressed her lips together, stifling her whimper but not completely hiding it. Castle's hands came up and undid the tie at her breasts, sending the sheet cascading to the floor. Beckett was surrounded by cold air (had it been that cold before? She hadn't noticed) and the need to feel him. Their eyes were locked and it was as if in a trance she pulled off his shirt (a form-fitting dark green pullover sweater, to help him blend in with the other students) and pressed her palms against his chest. He was as hot as she felt.

Reaching around her, Castle cupped her ass and pulled her to him, pressing their lower bodies firmly together. "You feel that, Kate?" He breathed, his voice as tense and stretched as a rubber band about to break. "That's what you do to me. That what just  _looking_  at you has done to me."

Beckett opened her mouth to reply, but Castle dove in, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair and grip the base of her skull, holding her in place for his onslaught. Beckett made that tiny sound in her throat, the one that always signified her overwhelming pleasure. He'd heard it first on their undercover kiss, and ever since getting together he'd made it his personal mission to draw that sound out of her as much as possible. Now he pulled that sound and more from her throat as she wrapped her arms around him, her whole body trembling with heat and need.

"I'd love to be the big man and good boyfriend and let you do your thing Kate, but I can't. I just… can't. Not when I finally have you." Castle's mouth was so close to her ear that every time his lips moved they brushed against the soft shell.

Beckett tugged his head so that his face was pressed into her neck and her mouth was at his ear. "Are you all talk Rick, or are you going to do something about it?"

Castle practically threw her onto the podium she'd been lounging on for the past hour, climbing on top of her before she could utter a word of protest. Not that she was planning on it. Beckett slipped her arms around his neck as Castle undid his pants, adding them to the pile of discarded clothing at the base of the podium.

"Why do you think I'm fine with assignments like these, Castle?" Beckett asked, running her hands over his back. She reached up and cupped his cheek so that he had no choice but to look at her. "It's because you are  _rarely_  sexier then when you're jealous."

Castle's eyes did that fish-out-of-water bulging thing, but then he lowered his lids and his eyes darkened, and he pinned her with his entire body, pressing them together until not an inch of skin was untouched or a bit of space lay between them.

"You are a minx, Katherine Beckett," he ground out, his teeth clenched.

"And you wouldn't have me any other way." Beckett smirked.

Castle snapped. He attacked her body with his mouth and hands, kissing and sucking and licking and massaging and doing his damndest to turn her into a gibbering pile of nothing because it was time for him to have the upper hand for a change. Beckett wrapped herself around him as tightly as she could, writhing and gasping and arching underneath his ruthless assault. It must have only been a couple of minutes but it felt like years, she was so turned on and ready and she would regret teasing him except that it felt so  _good_ …

Fortunately, Castle was a man who made good on his promises, and when he finally deemed her utterly wrecked and his point made, he wasted no time in getting to the main event. Beckett sensed that he was ready to slow down and savor things, but she was in no mood for that, and made every effort on her part to keep things as fast-paced as they had begun. Her feverish, expeditious movements and rapid pace were infectious, and Castle quickly picked up the tempo to match her.

By the time her climax hit, Beckett was too exhausted to even scream. She threw her head back, definitely making something in her spine crack, her mouth falling open as the air was forced out of her lungs on a burst of breath. Castle literally collapsed on top of her, needing a second before his shaky arms would allow him to raise himself up off of her and allow her to breathe again.

"That… was amazing." He declared, still breathing heavily.

"Uh-huh." That was pretty much all that Beckett could manage at the moment.

"I was going to demand that Gates never have you do something like this again, but…" Castle eyed her.

Beckett laughed. "Oh, really? Suffering through the throes of jealousy is all right if we have mind-blowing sex afterwards?"

Castle made a scandalized face and a shocked noise that was a little too Martha-like. "But of course!"

Rolling her eyes affectionately, Beckett managed to sit up. Hoo boy. She was going to be paying for this session in the gym later. Her thighs were still trembling. "If you can manage to stand, Castle, we need to get out of here and report to Gates."

"And after that?" Castle asked, already buoyant and energetic again.

"After that, we can go home and collapse and watch television," Beckett said decisively. "I'm beat."

"For now." Castle waggled his eyebrows.

And Beckett couldn't help but laugh.


End file.
